Dance With Me
by thiswaybecauseofjacob
Summary: Oneshot, slightly abstract. Very short. A voice calls to her at night. .and she answers. .one day she will be rewarded for her perfection. :


**This is a short, slightly abstract one-shot that uses no names, so you take a guess at whether you think it's Christine or Meg. And I don't think theres any question about who the mysterious voice is. ;) (Raoul of course! Haha, kidding)**

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Like black silk gliding across glimmering steel, the smooth, seductive voice calls to me in the night, as I dance.

I twist and writhe erotically across the gleaming wooden floor that glows in the warm bath of candlelight, bending and flexing to his every whisper. . .

The smoldering voice follows my every step.

My worn, tattered ballet shoes tap softly against the hard stage. My breath comes in tiny gasps, and the wind whistles in my ear as I twirl faster than ever, the world becoming one great blur.

The sweat trickles down my back, over my forehead and onto my heaving chest, making my tight leotard sticky with perspiration.

My body aches for rest, and my head throbs in anguish from the strain of hours of tireless dancing.

I follow no choreographed arrangement, and no light, lilting ballad or upbeat melody set my rhythm. My body dances for him.

My soul dances for him; belongs to him.

As I continue my provocative dance, I taste the salty sweetness of my tears against my cheeks as my body spins out of control. The voice has stopped his alluring whispers, but I cannot stop my dancing. I continue to painfully stretch my body across the stage, to make myself hurt to show my dedication to him.

I gasp and shudder as I feel the blood pulsing in my veins begin to slow, and I know he has left. The loss of his presence leaves me with an empty, all encompassing feeling of abandonment, and my salty tears continue to trek down my sweating cheeks.

One foot falters, the next one follows. Soon my legs give way beneath me, and I collapse heavily onto the cold, hardwood floor. I feel a strong sense of relief wash over me as the cool wood slowly relieves my battered and bruised body. My body is shuddering uncontrollably, and my limbs are throbbing with pain. My wet, sweat-soaked hair is splayed around my body, and the bristly locks itch my still trembling back. Yet I feel a sense of. .peace. I close my eyes, savoring the bliss. . .the agony.

Was the voice I loved pleased? I never knew. He never said. I was always left, night after night, in an almost euphoric state of anguish, brought on by his irresistible order to dance. . .to dance until my body was numb with exhaustion–. .with triumph.

He had promised me that night, just like every other, that soon we would dance _together_. We would move together, breath together, and exist in perfect harmony. I knew that the dance he spoke of was not the type of dance I performed each night for him. .and I longed for it.

With this promise came the promise of absolution, which I know is a gift that only he could ever give me.

I long for this promise to be fulfilled, for the man himself to caress my skin instead of his intoxicating voice. Was it a sin to yearn for something so completely that it became obsession? I didn't believe it to be so.

As I continue to lie there, near unconsciousness, I hear a sound from behind me, and the room is soon encased in darkness as every candle is extinguished. My heart pounds furiously against my aching ribs, not knowing who had entered my nightly domain, and I tense. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I have already been spotted but wishing for a miracle. I hear the quiet, quick footsteps come my way. They are light, elegant, and even. .like liquid. Can it be. .?

I nearly begin to cry fresh tears of joy as I hear that liquid voice from behind me, the one I love so dearly. He's speaking to me! My heart pounds harder as he approaches.

And then he begins to sing. Oh, I have never heard such music! The words are foreign and rich, and roll off his tongue in an enticing fluency that I have never heard. I know not what language it is, but it is beautiful, all the same. I push my self into a sitting position, wiping the tears from my face, and pushing the wet strands of hair off my forehead.

When I attempt to turn to face him, I am stopped by cool hands at my shoulders, long and lean, that skirt over my skin in a tantalizing dance. Then he places his lips at my ear, and I gasp in sheer ecstasy. I feel his breath against my ear, warm and sultry. Three words escape his lips, and I begin to cry again in genuine delight, in triumph, as the liquid gold caresses the delicate skin of my ear.

"_Dance with me,. ._"

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**Toldya it was short! Review and you get cookies. :)**


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